


stuck in my head while the sun is just rising

by Glassea



Series: metal arms + freezer burn [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, villain of the day: generic alien invasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassea/pseuds/Glassea
Summary: "Hashtag metal arm problems," Barnes deadpans.





	stuck in my head while the sun is just rising

**Author's Note:**

> back 3 years later and worse than ever
> 
> title from "i want to run" by mates of state
> 
> ~~you will drag jayroy from my cold, dead hands~~

Roy wishes he could be shocked. New York was supposed to be a vacation, after all. An alien invasion wasn't in his plans.

But he's been in this game long enough to know that one, plans never go as they're laid out, and two, any time you want to relax is when someone attacks.

So, this?

"I'm not even surprised anymore," Jason yells from twenty yards away, emptying a magazine into an oncoming bug-like alien. "I'm just disappointed."

Those are Roy's thoughts exactly. Or, they would be his thoughts, if he weren't so preoccupied with keeping all his internal organs intact. He ducks a shot aimed for his chest and sweeps his arm out with a wordless snarl. The laser activates, burning across the bug thing's body, eliciting a shrill scream of pain that makes Roy want to curl up and die.

"Nice one," Jason says, suddenly a lot closer, right behind Roy's shoulder. Damn Bats. Roy jumps a little in surprise and glances around only to find that all of the bugs in their area are motionless. Nothing seems to be coming for them, not right now. "And this is why we use lethal force," Jason comments.

"Oh thank fuck," Roy sighs, turning around to face Red Hood. His throat is dry with dust. "I need a breather."

The helmet hides Jason's face, but amusement translates even through the synthesizer. "What, Arsenal, getting tired in your old age?"

"I'm eighteen, jerkface."

Jason tilts his head and doesn't say anything. The sheer amount of judgment doesn't require words.

"Cryo doesn't count. Just like how you don't get to stick two years on the end of your age, yeah?"

"First of all, we don't talk about that." A few months ago there might have been actual fire in Jason's voice at the mention of his death-and-resurrection combo, but now there's just resigned acceptance. They've hashed this out too many times to still take it seriously. "Second, I'm nineteen, because I was born nineteen years ago. See how that works? It ain't rocket science, amigo."

"No, Jaybird -"

"- stop fucking calling me that, Harper -"

"- I'm eighteen, because I've been walking around and breathing for eighteen years. You are seventeen, because you've been a pain in the world's collective ass for seventeen years." Roy pauses, rethinks what he just said. "Oh my God, don't make that dirty."

"Too late." The Red Hood - crime lord, drug kingpin, and on the Most Wanted list for at least sixteen countries - sounds postively gleeful at the chance to act his age.

However, Jason doesn't get the chance to come up with an undoubtedly horrifying sexual innuendo. This is both a good and a bad thing. On one hand, Roy doesn't have to bleach his ears before he goes to sleep tonight. On the other hand, they must've missed a bug alien somewhere, because _holy-fucking-shit_ there's an alien grenade flying at his face.

"GET DOWN," he shouts, almost a scream, and drags Jason down with him as they hit the ground.

Roy doesn't hear the grenade go off. For a second he's terrified before he realizes that he's not actually dead. The sounds of the fight still echo through the streets of New York City. Jason is still braced next to him, not breathing, waiting for an explosion that won't come (and Roy makes a mental note to deal with that trauma-related shitshow when they're not about to die). The explosion just - it either didn't happen, or it happened far enough away that it blended in with the general cacophony.

Roy risks a glance up and finds that it must've been the latter, because the Winter Soldier is staring straight at him. And is apparently as much of an asshole as Roy remembers, because as soon as Barnes sees Roy's face, he says, "So what, you can't deflect a grenade with your metal arm?"

"I hate you," Roy tells him, but still takes the hand offered to drag himself up. He watches over Barnes' shoulder as Falcon takes out the alien they missed with a well-placed kick.

Next to him, Jason picks himself off the ground. If Roy didn't know Jason so well, he wouldn't recognize the shakiness in Jason's hands as anything more than exhaustion. Jason's Oscar-worthy act of Oh Yeah, I'm Totally Fine, No Trauma Here is airtight. Roy supposes it's a Bat thing. He watches Jason shake some rubble out of his sleeve as he studies Barnes.

Roy's told Jason a little bit about the meetings he and Barnes used to have, which ended maybe a year ago, back when he first met Jason. Plus, it's the Winter Soldier. Jason trained with the League of Assassins. It's not like Jason doesn't know who this is.

Jason inclines his head towards the group of aliens screeching a few blocks down the street. "Got any tips?" It's the best acceptance Barnes will get from Jason, right now.

"Electricity," Barnes responds immediately. "Weak spot, back of the neck, or between the top two eyes."

"Awesome." And Red Hood honestly sounds pretty thrilled about that. Jason looks towards Roy, reaching for his Tasers. "Arsenal? Sitting this one out?"

"Yeah," Roy says. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Jason flips him off before ducking away.

See, it's not that Roy's too tired to keep fighting, or that he's incompetent. It's just that metal, specifically metal arms, and electricity don't mix well. Of course the prosthetic is insulated; Roy doesn't feel any of the shocks, but he's learned the hard way that repeated electric shocks can cause interesting damage.

(His fingers were spazzing out for three days before he finally managed to find the failure in the insulation and the burned-out circuit.)

Roy tries to look sideways at Barnes. He looks better than he did, even under the blood and grime. There's a little more fluidity to his expression that was lacking before. And he's obviously out here, in military-grade gear, so he's probably doing field work with Captain America again. Roy feels kind of proud of this ninety-six-year-old supersoldier. He blames Sam Wilson and his therapy shit for the little voice inside his head that's commenting on how far Barnes has come.

Speaking of Sam Wilson, about two blocks down, Falcon's now stabbing a bug-thing with what looks like an electrified baton. Right in the face. It's a good shot. Roy feels a little jealous. He's going to be on long-range attacks with his crossbow, as soon as he retrieves the rest of his gear from the top of a nearby building. It's definitely not the same as actually fighting hand-to-hand, and Roy'd be more comfortable watching Jason's back, what with Kori off-world and all.

But he can't. Because arm.

He looks grudgingly at the thing and sighs.

"Hashtag metal arm problems," Barnes deadpans, apparently reading Roy's mind.

Roy turns and stares at him.

Back when he and Barnes were meeting regularly, Roy had spent a fair amount of time giving Barnes background on common technology. When they'd stopped Roy was still trying to get Barnes to use a microwave. Now he's throwing out hashtags in conversation.

It's both beautiful and the most horrifying thing Roy has ever witnessed.

"I'M EMBARASSED TO KNOW YOU," Falcon shouts as he dive-bombs a group of aliens nearby, because apparently Barnes has left his comm on.

Roy stares at Barnes for another three seconds, then says, "I'm just gonna leave now."

"I'm coming with you." Barnes grins. It looks predatory.

"No you're not," Roy says on instinct. He reaches for the PDA at his waist, starts flicking through radio signals almost unconsciously. "Wait. What. Why."

"We can bond," Barnes says. "Steve tells me that's what the kids are doing these days."

"I mean... I guess?"

"Or, we could - what did you call it, Sam - Netflix and chill?"

Roy chokes on his own spit and almost drops the PDA.

Barnes has this satisfied look on his face. Roy knows, in a sudden flash of oxygen-deprived clarity, that Barnes knows exactly what he's doing.

"I think I liked it better when you didn't really talk," Roy says after he recovers from his near-death experience of choking on his own saliva.

"Sam would agree with you on that."

"STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME, BARNES," Sam yells from down the street. "AND MAYBE GET A MOVE ON."

"Sure," Roy says, and flicks his earpiece off mute. "Hey, Hood. Switch to channel six, I just configured it for their comms."

Jason grunts assent. Roy taps his own earpiece to the preset channel. "Okay, good to go." He looks up at Barnes, only to find him with a strange expression on his face, staring fixedly at Roy. "Barnes?"

"Yeah," Barnes says, breaking off his stare and turning to the buildings around them. "Where's your shit?"

"Language," Captain America calls in Roy's ear, and Roy almost falls over. From the string of strained Spanish curses, Roy can guess that Jason's equally as shocked and also hasn't re-muted his mic.

"Language," Captain America stresses again, but more amused this time.

"Steve, you're the worst," Barnes says.

"I'm going to get my stuff," Roy says hopelessly, and just barely keeps himself from sprinting away.

Barnes, of course, follows him, because this is Roy's life, and that's just how it goes.

By some miracle, Barnes doesn't almost kill Roy in the next few minutes. He's actually helpful: prying open the elevator doors, giving Roy a hand out of the elevator shaft, and not saying anything else that will cause an instant heart attack. It's a win and Roy will take it!

But, you know, there's no way Barnes would help him for free. No such thing as free ex-assassin help, and all that.

"I'm borrowing this," Barnes says, hefting Roy's favorite stand from his bag.

Roy stares at him. "I. Okay. Fine. Why not."

"Thanks."

"Sure," Roy says, and digs around for his second-favorite, not-already-assembled stand. And as much as he internally bitches about putting the thing together, it doesn't really take that long. He's on his stomach on the roof, peering through the scope, when he feels an elbow nudge his side.

Roy ignores it and shifts further away from Barnes.

The elbow finds its way into his ribs again.

Roy gets up, moves his stand another six inches to the right, and lies right back down.

He manages to squeeze off one shot - on an alien hiding behind Jason, waiting to ambush him - before the elbow returns.

"What do you want," Roy hisses.

"I think I liked you better when you were scared of me," Barnes remarks. "How about a contest?"

"No," Roy says, and takes his next shot.

"Sniping, but we take off our metal arms," Barnes says, sounding like he's just proposed the solution to world hunger.

Roy takes his eyes off the scope and stares at Barnes. "No."

Barnes stares right back, eyes gone hard and cold, and Roy can't help the shiver of fear that runs down his spine.

"I said no, I'm busy anyways." Roy looks away, trying to track Jason in the chaos below. "My arm doesn't even come off."

"It doesn't?" Barnes sounds honestly shocked.

"It doesn't," Roy confirms. The alien he was aiming for falls under Captain America's shield, and Roy switches targets.

"Huh," Barnes says, and then, "You take twelve to two, I take eight to twelve?"

Roy surveys the area below. The right is more densely packed, and that's where Jason is anyways. "Sure."

Next to him, Barnes removes his metal arm, letting it thump to the roof with a metallic clink. "I shoot better without it on," he says, even though Roy didn't ask for an explanation.

And Roy can't help but remember their truly awful coffee therapy chats, the ones where Barnes haltingly spoke of how HYDRA only removed the arm when they were preparing him for a mission. How he learned to associate the lack of the arm with killing, and the presence of the arm with pain.

Roy didn't know what to say back then, and he doesn't know what to say now. The two of them just go back to bringing down whatever aliens Falcon, Hood, and Captain America aren't getting.

"Makes sense," Roy says eventually, as they're packing up. He watches Barnes reattach his arm with practiced ease.

"Yeah," Barnes says, and shoves that elbow back into Roy's ribs. "Hashtag metal arm problems."

And when Roy tries to roll off the roof in despair, it's Barnes' goddamn metal arm that pulls him back.

**Author's Note:**

> roy: [john mulaney voice] this might as well happen, adult life is already so goDDAMN WEIRD


End file.
